


Parents of the Groom

by DKNC



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKNC/pseuds/DKNC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb Stark's wedding to Jeyne Westerling has Ned and Catelyn both reflecting on the family they have built together as the day's events unfold. A Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parents of the Groom

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the GameofShips challenge prompt for Weddings, but since I write such ridiculously long fics, I couldn't get it posted to tumblr by the time I finished it at 11:45pm, and it's probably WAY too long to put on a tumblr dash anyway. So, for what it's worth,here it is.

“Ow! Jesus, Cat! Shut those drapes!”

Ned Stark closed his eyes tightly against the light streaming in through the large sliding glass door of their hotel balcony. While the room faced westward away from the morning sun, its bright light still reflected painfully off the blue sea below.

She actually laughed at him. “Poor baby. Does your head hurt this morning?”

“No,” he lied, realizing as he spoke that it did. He sighed and pushed himself up into a sitting position in the bed, shading his eyes with his hand and squinting as he tried to focus on his wife. “Move away from the windows, Cat, so I can at least look at you. Please?”

She laughed again and walked toward the little counter area containing the mini fridge and coffeemaker which was thankfully in a dim, shaded corner of the room.

“What time is it?” he asked her.

“Past time to for you to be up,” she said, pouring a cup of coffee and bringing it to him along with two Advil tablets. “You’re playing golf this morning. Remember?”

“Oh, god.” He did remember. Eighteen holes in the insufferable west coast heat with his eldest son along with two men he barely knew, was not certain he liked, and would soon be related to. “Give me that,” he said, reaching for the coffee and Advil.

“Oh, don’t give me that long suffering look, Eddard Stark,” Catelyn chided him. “If I can survive brunch with Sybell Westerling and the ladies from her club without losing my temper or my sanity, you can suffer through golf with Gawen and Raynald. And you have no one but yourself to blame for your headache, my love.”

She bent and kissed the top of his head gently which took some of the sting out of her words, and Ned realized she smelled of her shampoo and her lightly scented body lotion. “You’ve already showered and dressed,” he said stupidly. Of course, she had. His eyes had focused enough now to see that she wore a stylish blouse with her good tan slacks, and her hair was pulled back away from her face in some sort of fastener thing at the nape of her neck. “You look good,” he added. “ But I didn’t hear you get up.”

She laughed. “No. You didn’t hear the phone ring either. Jeyne sounded rather desperate, poor girl. I promised her I’d come down to the reception hall and help keep her mother from murdering anyone while the decorations are going up.

Ned nodded absently. “Aren’t the girls helping with that? I remember Sansa going on about putting something on all the tables.” He sipped the coffee and was pleased to find that his stomach accepted it without protest. He took a larger drink and could almost see the fog lifting from his brain.

“Yes. I’m sure they’re down there already, and while Sansa can likely keep a civil tongue in her head, if that awful woman snaps at Arya, I’m afraid she’ll come right back at her. One more reason I need to get down there.”

Ned smiled up at his beautiful wife. “You’ll sort them all out, I’m certain. And I promise not to insult Robb’s future father-in-law. Should I let him win?”

She grinned at him. “I’m quite certain Robb will beat both of you unless the wedding day jitters get to him, so I wouldn’t worry about that. He did tell me that Ray doesn’t really play much so you shouldn’t get impatient with him if he takes a lot of strokes on any hole.”

“Oh?” Ned was generally a very patient man, but his son knew him well enough to know that his patience tended to become limited when dealing with truly dreadful golfers. “This is sounding like more fun all the time. But why didn’t Robb speak to me directly about Jeyne’s brother’s golf game, or lack thereof?”

“Well . . .he didn’t think of it until he was headed up to his room last night, and by that time . . .” She tilted her head sideways and shrugged her shoulders slightly.

“God, Cat. Did I make a terrible fool out of myself?”

“Don’t you remember?” she teased, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Well,” he confessed, rubbing his hand across his beard. “The last part of the evening is a little bit fuzzy.”

“That’s hardly flattering,” she said, frowning at him. 

More quickly than he’d thought himself capable of moving, he set the coffee cup down on the nightstand and reached up to pull her down on the bed into his lap. “Oh, I remember that part well enough,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and inhaling the delicious scent of her hair as she laughed at him. “You are never forgettable, my love,” he growled into her ear before nipping at her earlobe.

“Stop it,” she laughed at him. “If you keep this up, Sybell will likely criticize Arya for placing table directions three centimeters off center before I get down there, and Arya will tell her to go to hell. And you’ll miss your tee time.”

“Sybell can go to hell for all I care,” he said, brushing his lips down along her neck and reaching one hand up to tug at the thing holding back her hair. “And I don’t want to play golf.”

“Stop it, Ned. I mean it,” she said more threateningly. “You’ve barely enough time to get dressed and out of here as it is.” She twisted away from him and put a hand to the back of her head as she stood, making certain he hadn’t messed her hair up too badly.

She shook her head at him reproachfully. “But for what it’s worth,” she told him once she was safely out of reach. “I found you pretty memorable last night as well. I was pleasantly surprised, my love, considering how much scotch I watched you put away.”

He frowned at her. “Was I terrible, Cat? At the rehearsal dinner?”

She took pity on him then. “No, Ned. You were charming. You were a wonderful host, and the little speech you gave about Robb and Jeyne was beautiful. You weren’t slurring your words or stumbling about, I promise. You were simply . . .talkative--for you. And you found a great many things funny.” She smiled at him. “I guarantee none of the Westerlings or their guests had the slightest idea you were inebriated. Our children and friends know you well enough, however, to recognize that telling jokes to large groups of people and making numerous song requests of the band is not something you do when entirely sober.”

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Ned said, rising from the bed at last and realizing he was entirely naked. _Yes, I do remember that part,_ he thought, smiling in spite of his dismay over any embarrassing behavior on his part at the infernal dinner last night.

“Over? The wedding’s tonight, Ned! Did you forget that little detail?” Catelyn exclaimed.

“Ah, but it’s Gawen Westerling’s party now,” he informed her, planting a kiss on her cheek as he walked past her to head to the shower. “Father of the Groom does the rehearsal dinner. Period. Tonight I just sit there in church, watch Robb marry Jeyne, and then go eat and drink whatever I like at the reception with a big grin on my face because I’m not paying for it.”

“You’re terrible. You know that, don’t you?” she called after him as he shut the bathroom door. “Sansa and Arya will likely get married some day, and I’ll remind you about saying that when you’re the father of the bride!”

He laughed and turned on the shower. “You’d better hurry downstairs, Cat!” he called back to her while he waited for the water to warm up. “If Arya and Sybell Westerling kill each other, at least one daughter will never have the chance to get married!” 

Smiling to himself guiltily at imagining his younger daughter actually telling off Robb’s insufferable future mother-in-law, Ned stepped into the shower. His head already felt a wee bit better after the coffee, and he thought that after a shower, he just might make it through eighteen holes with the Westerling men after all. But he certainly wouldn’t want to trade places with Catelyn.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Catelyn Stark reluctantly tore herself away from the balcony with its breathtaking view of the sunlit ocean and turned to survey her reflection. Her hair looked absolutely stunning, if she did say so herself. Of course, she had nothing to do with how it looked. Jeyne had insisted upon her coming with the bridal party to have her hair done after brunch, and the stylist assigned to her had been positively giddy at getting her hands on Catelyn’s thick auburn tresses. 

It had been a sweet gesture on Jeyne’s part considering how the brunch had ended, and Catelyn had enjoyed spending the early part of the afternoon with her daughters as Sansa loved every minute at the salon and Arya suffered it with relative good grace. Jeyne’s sister Eleyna was precisely between Sansa and Arya in age and, miraculously enough, got along beautifully with both of them, and Jeyne’s two friends who were bridesmaids were nice enough, if a little giggly for Catelyn’s taste. The only true negative to the nearly three hours spent in the salon was the fact that it required her to remain in close proximity to Sybell Westerling longer than anticipated.

How on earth such a hateful woman had managed to raise a daughter as sweet as Jeyne, Catelyn could not fathom. She prayed fervently that her soon-to-be daughter-in-law would never take after her mother in any way or Robb’s life would become difficult indeed. Having Sybell for a mother-in-law would be quite taxing enough. Catelyn sighed, as she surveyed her reflection and once again asked God to bless her son in this marriage. Jeyne seemed to make him so happy, and even though she’d been terribly upset with him for breaking off his two year engagement to Roslin Frey after meeting her, Catelyn had to admit that her son had never looked at Ros the way he looked at Jeyne. And she wouldn’t have him marry someone he didn’t truly love, even if she had known Roslin’s family her entire life and even if her family did still attend church together with the Freys at Sacred Heart.

She’d gotten over all that. Jeyne had completely won her over with her obvious love for Robb. It was just . . .that woman! Catelyn had initially thought she’d be sympathetic toward Jeyne’s mother when Robb had told her the woman’s story. Apparently, Gawen Westerling’s family had not approved of his marriage, thinking Sybell somehow beneath them because her family’s wealth came from her father’s chain of discount department stores rather than from a long line of wealthy ancestors. That was a ridiculously archaic and unfair attitude, of course, but once she met Sybell Spicer Westerling, Catelyn found it hard to sympathize with anything about the woman. 

Sybell found fault with everyone. No one measured up to her or her children in any way. She was obsessed with demonstrating just how much better than everyone else she really was and frequently did that by tearing down anyone around her. God forbid that anyone other than herself or her children receive a compliment in her hearing, and the woman was a master of the obvious insult thinly veiled as friendly conversation. If Catelyn had to hear one more word about how lucky Robb (a sweet boy, but not even in the same league as some of her daughter’s former suitors) was to be marrying Jeyne, she thought she might scream. And the woman’s “sympathetic” commentary on what she saw as Arya’s lack of femininity and Rickon’s lack of any social skills whatsoever had provoked Catelyn to a few barbed responses. When the idiot woman had praised Ned and herself to the ladies at the stupid bridesmaid’s brunch as ‘martyrs’ for keeping that poor crippled boy at home and treating him ‘just like a normal person’ instead of putting him in a facility of some kind, she’d lost it, though.

“My son Bran is a person, Sybell!” she’d interjected angrily. “No less deserving of respect than any other person, and Ned and I are blessed to be his parents. Thank God that Bran’s skiing accident only left him incapable of walking. I shudder to think what horrific accident must have happened to you which left you incapable of intelligent thought and basic human decency!”

She hadn’t been aware of rising from her seat as she spoke, but she’d found herself standing over Sybell Westerling, shaking with anger. She slowly became conscious of the sound of Arya’s slow clapping beside her and the indignant sputtering of the woman in front of her. Turning to look at Jeyne, she had said quickly, “I am sorry for raising my voice at your brunch, Jeyne, but . . .” Unable to say anything further about the girl’s mother without unleashing further negative comments, she’d fled to the ladies’ room. 

Jeyne had found her there a short time later, and Catelyn had been surprised to see her rather than Sansa or Arya. “Don’t you dare apologize,” Jeyne had said before Catelyn could even open her mouth. “Mother was way out of line, and I’ve told her so. She should apologize to you. She won’t do that here, of course, so I told her brunch was over.”

Catelyn had stared at her, honestly surprised by the amount of backbone the girl was showing. If she’d had one true concern about Jeyne Westerling other than her family, it had been that the girl was almost too meek, never raising objections to anything. Now, she smiled at her almost daughter-in-law. “I thank you for that, Jeyne. I suppose I should go make sure Bran and Rickon get something decent for lunch then.”

“No,” Jeyne had said quickly. “Rollam texted me. They’re all going to pick up Robb’s cousin at the airport and then grabbing something to eat. I want you to come with us. We’re all getting our hair done together. It’ll be fun.”

Jeyne’s younger brother was the same age as Bran and seemed a nice young man. And Jon had felt terrible about having to miss the rehearsal dinner, but couldn’t get leave until today. He’d definitely see to Bran and Rickon well enough. Yet Catelyn had still hesitated.

Her doubts must have shown on her face because Jeyne had laughed. “I promise I won’t make you ride in a car with Mother,” she’d said. “Please, Mrs. Stark. I really want you there with us.”

She’d seemed sincere, and Catelyn had relented. “All right, Jeyne, but my name is Catelyn. If you persist in calling me Mrs. Stark after tonight, I might think you’re talking to yourself!”

So, she’d ended up with a rather glamorous updo which had caused Sansa to cry out, “Mother, you’re beautiful!” at the same time Arya had grinned, “Dad’s gonna hate it.” It was far more elaborate than her hairstyle had been at her own wedding. She’d left it mostly down then at Ned’s request.

She did hope he didn’t _hate_ it. She honestly thought she looked rather pretty. _I’m forty-eight years old, Ned. I can’t simply let it grow to my waist and hang there loose all the time anymore. I’m the mother of the groom, not the flower girl, for God’s sake._ Sighing, she unbuttoned her blouse and hung it over the towel rack and then unfastened her slacks. It was time to dress for this wedding. She hoped Ned and Robb returned from the golf course soon. They’d been gone for hours, and Ned always grumped about putting on formal wear. If they had to rush, he’d be worse.

Wearing only her bra and panties, she carried her clothes out to the closet, tossing them in the suitcase she’d designated as the dirty clothes hamper for the duration of their stay, and pulled out the silver dress Sansa and Jeyne had helped pick out for her three months ago. It was quite a bit fancier than she normally wore, but it did compliment the accents on the lilac bridesmaids dresses nicely so she’d allowed the girls to talk her into it. As she carried it toward the bathroom, she noticed she could see the sun in the western sky over the ocean now. 

Ned had better hurry back. The wedding was timed to take place in the lovely little chapel near the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea just as the sun set. The western end of the chapel was open toward the ocean, and apparently the light at sunset did something truly magical to the stained glass windows on the other sides. The Westerlings weren’t followers of any particular religion as far as Catelyn could tell, but their family had been residents of The Crag for generations and had even owned the land occupied by this resort and its chapel at some more financially prosperous point in their past. Jeyne had grown up dreaming about being married here.

Catelyn couldn’t blame the girl for wanting to be married in her hometown, and it was a beautiful place. She only wished it weren’t quite so far from Winterfell. The distance from here to Riverrun was at least drivable, albeit a long drive, so all of her family and quite a few family friends were in attendance, but the only reasonable way to reach the Crag from anywhere as far north as Winterfell was by plane, so while all the Starks would be here with Jon’s arrival, a fair number of Robb’s good friends from childhood and a lot of Ned’s friends hadn’t been able to make the trip.

That had been at least partially responsible for Ned’s scotch consumption last night. She smiled as she carefully applied her makeup, remembering her husband’s uncharacteristic inebriation. He’d been nervous enough about playing host at a dinner in a place he’d never set foot in (Catelyn had made all the arrangements, working with Jeyne and her wedding planner by phone, over the past few months), but having the great majority of the guests be people he’d never met or knew only slightly pushed him right over the edge. The size of the dinner had gotten out of control. When Sybell Westerling had heard that Ned and Catelyn intended to invite their out of town guests who were staying over Friday night to the dinner as well as the members of the wedding party, she’d insisted upon adding a ‘few’ names of her own to the list--about forty friends and relatives who lived locally, but had taken rooms at the resort anyway to make a sort of holiday weekend of it. 

Oh well. That part was over now, and it had gone off surprisingly well. She, of course, had now told off Sybell Westerling, but she hadn’t drawn blood, and the two of them had managed to be at least superficially cordial to each other at the hair salon. Now, they only had to get Robb and Jeyne married this evening, make it through the reception without major incident, get the newlyweds on a plane to the Summer Isles in the morning and then board their own flight north tomorrow afternoon. 

“Cat! Are you in here?” She heard Ned calling out as he entered their room.

“In the bathroom, my love! You’d better get in here and jump in the shower! We need to be dressed pretty much now.”

“That was the longest round of golf I have ever played in my life,” he blustered from the other room, his voice muffled momentarily as he must be pulling his golf shirt over his head. “Raynald Westerling should be banned from every golf course in the world. My god! I’ve never seen anyone take a sixteen on a par 3 before!! And he wouldn’t ever just pick up his ball and go on. He kept . . .What the hell did you do to your hair?”

Catelyn had been looking down, replacing the cap on her mascara, but she looked up into the mirror now to see her husband standing behind her in the doorway of the bathroom wearing nothing but his boxers and a stunned expression on his face.

She turned around and frowned at him. “Why, hello Cat,” she intoned. “How was your day, my love? I see you’ve had your hair done for the wedding. It looks lovely.” She stared at him pointedly and he walked over to her.

“It does look lovely,” he said apologetically. “I was just . . .shocked. It just didn’t look like you at first.”

“And now?” she asked him.

He tipped her chin up and surveyed her face and hair carefully. “Definitely my beautiful wife. And the hair is quite becoming, Cat. Honest.” He grinned at her. “Can I take it down later?”

“Well I’m not sleeping with it like this,” she said, turning back toward the mirror to see if her makeup was satisfactory or needed any further touching up.

“Are you all right, my love?” he asked her, apparently not oblivious to the tension in her voice. “Arya texted me earlier,” he added cautiously. “Did you really . . .”

“Call Sybell Westerling unintelligent and lacking basic human decency? Yes,” she sighed, turning back around to face him. “Ned, I just couldn’t . . .”

“I know,” he said soothingly, running his hands over her bare arms. “I know. It’s fine. I can’t imagine how you kept from saying something of the sort for as long as you did with all the time you’ve been forced to spend with the woman since Thursday. I’d have murdered her by now, had I been in your place.”

“But it’s Robb’s wedding, and I shouldn’t be . . .”

“You shouldn’t be forced to suffer that vicious little woman’s spiteful tongue. Don’t worry about it. Robb thought it was fantastic. Couldn’t stop laughing once I got him away from the other two long enough to tell him about it.”

“You’re both terrible to think it’s funny,” she said, twisting up her mouth. “I should be able to control my temper better than that.”

He made a snorting noise as if he didn’t think very highly about her ability to control her temper, but then his expression turned serious. “Cat,” he said. “There is something I need to tell you, and I don’t want you to be upset.” He still had his hands on her arms, and he looked at her as if she might be a dangerous explosive device of some sort.

“What?” she said suspiciously.

He sighed. “Ed called me while I was on the golf course. He wanted me to tell you that . . .”

“He’s not coming? Edmure’s not coming? He promised, Ned! I knew he couldn’t get here for the dinner last night, but he swore he’d be . . .”

“He’s coming, Cat,” Ned assured her hurriedly. “He’s here, in fact, checking in. He and his, um, date.”

“He brought someone?” Catelyn narrowed her eyes at her husband who was acting very strangely. Her little brother behaved rather like a girl-crazy teen even at forty and had been through a long list of completely inappropriate girlfriends, none of whom lasted more than a few months. It drove Catelyn’s father crazy. “Oh god, Ned! Not that girl he met at the Kneeling Man? The stripper!”

“No, Cat! It’s nothing like that. And I’ve already talked to Robb, and he’s okay with it, and even though he’s not allowed to talk to Jeyne until the wedding, of course, he says that she’ll be fine with it, too . . .”

“Who the hell did he bring, Ned?”

Ned looked heavenward as if to consign his soul to God, and then breathed, “Roslin Frey.”

Catelyn stared at him in silence for a moment, unable to believe what she had heard. “Roslin Frey,” she repeated finally.

“Yes,” Ned said warily, obviously not trusting her calm demeanor one bit.

All of the day’s stressors seemed to descend upon her then, and she actually felt her composure slipping away. “What the hell is he thinking, Ned?” She whirled around and beat her hands on the bathroom counter. “My brother has pulled some stupid stunts, but this! This!”

“He swears it isn’t a stunt, Cat,” Ned said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “He says that he and Roslin have been seeing each other sort of quietly for months now, and that he thinks she’s the one.”

“The one?” Catelyn laughed because the only other thing she could do was cry. “My brother, the man who will screw anything with tits and a pulse has found the one? And it’s Robb’s ex-fiancee?”

“That’s what he tells me,” Ned said softly, his thumbs kneading the backs of her shoulders.

“He’s fifteen years older than she is, Ned.” Catelyn was too tired to shout about it anymore. 

“Yes, but they’re both adults, Cat. I confess I think that choosing Robb’s wedding as the moment to go public with their relationship is a bad idea, but he didn’t call me until they’d arrived. I can’t see making poor Ros sit in their hotel room alone through the wedding and reception. Can you?”

“No,” she said. “She doesn’t deserve that. You know I still feel Robb handled things badly with her, Ned.” Catelyn sighed heavily. “I want good things for the girl, I do. Although whether my brother constitutes a good thing for a young woman of twenty-five is debatable. But right now, I mostly want Robb’s wedding to go off without a hitch. We don’t need any angry awkwardness.”

“There won’t be any. Ed and Robb both assured me that it will be fine.”

Catelyn snorted. “Neither of them asked Jeyne, did they? How happy would I have been if Ashara Dayne had shown up at our wedding on the arm of one of your friends or relatives?”

“Ah, but I knew you well enough to know how you’d feel about that, my love. We just have to trust that Robb knows Jeyne as well.”

“I suppose we haven’t really got much choice,” she sighed, and leaned back into Ned’s hands as he worked on the knots in her shoulders. “It’s almost funny, I suppose. For so long, I thought Roslin would be Robb’s bride. I finally got used to that not being the case, and now she’s Edmure’s ‘one’?” 

“You always did like Roslin a lot, didn’t you?”

Catelyn shrugged. “I knew her. I feel like I’m still getting to know Jeyne. And while I’m not a tremendous fan of Roslin’s father, I like quite a few of her other family members. And they’re Catholic.”

Ned chuckled at that, bending to kiss the side of her neck. “You’re in no position to hold not being Catholic against Jeyne. I’m not Catholic.”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head sideways to give his lips better access to her neck. “No . . .I suppose not. But I seem to make a lot of exceptions for you. You give amazingly good shoulder rubs.”

He made a growling noise in his throat. “Well, as long as we’re both already down to our underwear, how about we take those off, you join me in the shower, and I’ll rub your various other parts.”

“Ned!” she laughed, swatting at the hand which had moved down to tug at her panties as he spoke. “My hair! Remember? I most certainly cannot get in the shower. And before you suggest it, I can‘t roll around in the bed either!”

Undeterred, he reached for the clasp of her bra, and she felt it spring loose. “Eddard Stark! We have to get dressed. Our son is getting married.”

“I know,” he murmured, turning her round to face him, pulling the bra down over her arms.. “We’ll make it to the wedding. I promise.” He continued kissing her neck as he began teasing her nipples with his fingers, and she felt her resolve weaken slightly. He pulled her against him then and the contact with his stiff cock, even through his boxers sent a jolt of desire through her.

“Ned,” she whispered. “We don’t have time,” but his hand was tugging her panties down again, and she felt her resolve melting completely away when his fingers reached between her legs. She moved almost involuntarily into the motion of his hand until she felt his other hand reach up behind her head. “Stop!” she nearly shouted, pulling away from him. Brought back to her senses by the threat to her hairdo, she whirled around and looked in the mirror. She was relieved to see that her hair appeared undamaged, but the appearance of her flushed cheeks and the smoky grey of Ned’s eyes as he stared hungrily at her reflection did nothing to quell the heat she felt. “Ned . . .we can’t.”

“We can,” he said, and she found herself being spun around once more and then lifted up and seated on the edge of the counter. “Remember after our own wedding, Cat?”

“Oh, god,” she said. “We were terrible. I could never look at Father Allen in the eyes again!”

He laughed, all the while pulling her underwear the rest of the way down her legs and tossing them to the floor. “It was your own fault. You’re the one who decided we should abstain the entire month before the wedding. You’re the one who looked so damn gorgeous, I wanted to throw you down right there on the altar.” His hands rubbed her calves and thighs as he spoke. His eyes never left hers.

“Ned! That’s sacrilegious!” 

“Why? We were married then, weren’t we? There’s no sin in lusting after your own wife.” His hands had moved further up her body, and she found her breath coming shorter.

She remembered those moments just after their wedding ceremony very well. She’d been twenty-two, and while she’d dated other men, including Ned’s own brother, he was the only one she’d ever slept with. Plagued by Catholic guilt over the fact that she hadn’t waited to be married, she’d insisted they stop having sex as their wedding drew near--to make it special, she’d told him. What it had done was make them both crazy. They’d begged a few moments alone to gather themselves before the reception and run to the small dressing room. There he’d pushed her lovely white gown up above her waist, put her up on the edge of the table, and proceeded to make up for lost time, standing there pushing into her with his pants around his ankles. She’d cried out when he made her come, and Father Allen out in the hall had been alarmed, knocking on the door and asking if she was hurt. They’d frozen in place, poor Ned about to explode, and she’d croaked out, “I . . .I stubbed my toe!” At that, Ned had thrust into her again and made a groaning sort of noise as he came himself. “Ow!” he’d said then, just in case Father Allen was still outside the door. “Stubbed my toe, too.” They’d collapsed into giggles then and finally emerged to go to the reception knowing full well Father Allen knew what they’d been doing.

“We aren’t twenty-two anymore, Ned,” she said now.

“So? I still lust after my wife,” he responded, running his hands over her back and standing between her legs, pulling her against him. “And I didn’t mess up your hair then, as I recall.”

“No,” she admitted. “But you wrinkled my poor dress something awful.”

“You aren’t wearing a dress now,” he pointed out, and then he bent to kiss her, silencing any further arguments.

 _Lipstick is easy enough to fix,_ she thought, finally giving into her own desire and reaching to pull his boxers down. 

Recognizing his victory, he let go of her just long enough to step out of the boxers, and then he was back between her legs, cupping her hips in his hands as she guided him inside her. She wound her arms around his neck and threw back her head as he moved within her and marveled that he could make her feel even better now than twenty-six years ago. Afterward, she hadn’t yet caught her breath or regained her balance when she heard him laughing.

“What’s funny?” she asked him.

“How’s your toe, Cat?” he asked her. 

She smacked him on his naked backside. “Get in the shower, Ned. We’re going to be late.”

He grinned at her. “It was worth it. And you don’t have a hair out of place.”

She smiled at him in spite of herself. “It was the most fun I’ve had all day,” she admitted. “Now, get in the shower, Eddard Stark. And hand me a washcloth while you’re at it. We are _not_ going to miss our own son’s wedding.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Ned Stark held the door of the hotel room open for his wife as she ran back to get the purse she’d forgotten. It was a tiny, sparkly little thing that he couldn’t imagine would hold much of anything, and he said so as he followed her out into the hall.

“It holds Tic-Tacs, lipstick, Kleenex, and a little comb,” she told him. “And it looks really cute with this dress.”

“Cute is not the word I’d use for that dress,” he said, moving his eyes appreciatively over Catelyn. She wore a long shiny grey sort of gown of material just shiny and soft-enough to make him want to reach out and touch it. A slit in the skirt showed off her lower leg as she walked, and the diamond pendant he’d given her last year for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary sparkled against the skin of her chest above the V shaped neck-line. She looked like a goddess. A stunning copper-haired goddess--even if all that hair was swept up above her neck and off limits to his hands.

She laughed at him. “You look very dashing, yourself, my love,” she told him, taking his arm as they walked.

He snorted. “I look like every other man in a black tux with a grey vest. Although, my hair probably matches the vest better than anyone else’s in our party.” 

His dark brown hair had begun to go grey just after his thirtieth birthday, and now as he was much closer to fifty than to forty, his beard was entirely grey and the hair on his head well over fifty percent gray. Sometimes it bothered him, but not often, and Catelyn always maintained she liked the grey. Of course, when she’d found two or three silver strands mixed in with her auburn just a couple months ago, she’d immediately yanked them out and carried on as if she’d suddenly aged sixty years! 

“Mom! Dad!” Ned’s thoughts were interrupted by a shout as the elevator door opened. “Where the hell have you two been? Sansa’s about to have kittens!”

Ned had to smile at the sight of his younger daughter holding up her long purple bridesmaid’s dress so that she could run toward them from the elevator bank at the end of the hall. At twenty, she was a bright, lovely young woman, but looking at her now, he could only see the eight year old girl who had never walked anywhere she could run.

“Watch your mouth, Arya!” Catelyn cautioned her. “We’re right here, on our way downstairs.”

“But we’ve been down there for ages waiting on you,” Arya said. “Sansa finally went on down to the chapel with Jeyne and Eleyna because Robb can’t see Jeyne before the wedding.” She rolled her eyes about that. “Rickon and Jon went, too. They’ll call Bran and Robb when Jeyne’s safely hidden away or whatever. I haven’t seen Jeyne’s dad or brothers or the harpy. They’re probably already at the chapel complaining about you.”

“Arya,” Catelyn warned again, “You cannot keep referring to Mrs. Westerling as a harpy.”

“She is one,“ Arya muttered. “But, seriously? What’s been keeping you? You two are never late for anything!”

“Your mother stubbed her toe,” Ned said seriously, and then he amused himself by watching Catelyn try very hard not to look at him as she choked down a laugh and her face turned as bright as her hair.

Arya looked back and forth between the two of them and shook her head. “I swear you all are so weird sometimes. But, seriously, let’s go.”

“Lead on,” Ned told her, reaching out to squeeze his wife’s hand. As Arya turned to lead them back toward the elevator, Catelyn gave him her best, “Behave yourself, Eddard Stark” look, and he simply raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, causing her to shake her head and smile.

Once in the elevator, Arya seemed to relax as her mission was accomplished, and Ned watched her actually take a good look at her mother. “Damn, Mom. You look hot! Isn’t there some sort of rule about not looking better than the bride?”

“Your language leaves a lot to be desired, Arya,” Catelyn reprimanded her, but she was smiling. “But I do thank you. I don’t think anyone will be looking at your old mother, though, with all of you lovely young ladies around. Jeyne will no doubt be stunning, and you look absolutely beautiful, my dear.”

Arya looked down at the purple dress. _Lilac,_ Ned corrected himself mentally. _Catelyn keeps telling me these colors are lilac and silver rather than purple and grey._

“I don’t look too bad,” she admitted. “Just wait til you see Sansa, though. She doesn’t even look real. I thought Jeyne’s dumpy little friends were going to kill her with their hateful looks when she got off the elevator. It isn’t really fair to make them stand by her wearing the same dress as her, you know.”

“I’m sure all the girls look lovely,” Catelyn said diplomatically.

“And I’m sure you and Sansa look the loveliest,” Ned added. Growing up in Sansa’s shadow couldn’t possibly have been easy, but as his daughters had left their teens behind, they had also thankfully left behind the worst part of their petty jealousies and squabbles. Arya would never believe herself as pretty as her older sister, he knew, and perhaps in a classic sense, she wasn’t. But her dark hair was beautiful, her grey eyes luminous, and her smile infectious. She was more slender and less curvaceous than either her sister or her mother, but she moved with an unconscious sort of grace that drew far more male eyes toward her than Ned actually liked.

“I can always count on you, Dad!” she exclaimed as the elevator doors opened, flashing him a grin that reminded him forcefully of Catelyn when she was teasing him. While his wife and younger daughter looked nothing alike--Arya was all Stark in appearance and had sometimes been mistaken for his sister’s daughter when they’d been together over the years--they were more alike in other ways than either of them recognized. “You two stay put, and don’t disappear,” she said, as they exited the elevator. “I’ll call for a car to take us down to the chapel and call Robb. If Jon’s given him the all clear, he and Bran can come down with us.”

“She’s a force of nature,” Catelyn said, shaking her head after her.

“Can’t imagine where she gets it,” Ned said dryly. 

Catelyn punched his arm. “Oh,” she said then. “There’s Lysa! She said she needed to talk to me about something. Maybe I can get it over with while we wait for Arya to come back.”

“Just don’t disappear. Arya might kill you.”

She rolled her eyes, and called out to her sister as she walked away from him.

Watching Catelyn and Arya recalled to his mind the text messages Arya had sent him on the golf course earlier. He’d saved it, and he pulled out his phone to re-read it now.

_OMG!! You should’ve seen it, Dad! Mom just went totally badass and smacked down the harpy!_

_Your mother lost her temper with Mrs. Westerling? What did the woman do now?_

_Bitch talked smack about Bran. Called him a cripple and said something about putting him in a home or some garbage. Mom took her down!_

“Ned? Is it one of the kids?” He looked up to find his wife beside him once more, looking at him quizzically, and he pushed the button to darken his phone screen. While he found Arya’s texts vastly amusing, he doubted Cat would enjoy them.

“No,” he said. “It’s nothing. What did Lysa want?”

She shook her head. “I’m not really sure. She told me Robert wasn’t feeling well, and so she’d told him to stay in their room and see if he felt any better before the reception. And that she had big news for me, but she’d tell me later.” She shrugged. “I never know what’s going on with Lysa anymore.”

Ned made a sympathetic sort of sound. He’d never been able to understand Catelyn’s sister ever, although he knew they had been very close growing up. He hadn’t understood what had possessed Jon Arryn, a man who’d been both a friend and a surrogate father to him to marry the younger Tully sister after his wife had died, and he certainly hadn’t ever figured out why Lysa had married him. She’d never seemed happy with a husband old enough to be her father, although she did dote on their son, Robert. Thinking of Jon Arryn made him sad. The man had died suddenly a year ago, and Ned missed him on this day. “I hope Robert can join us for the reception,” he said. Jon’s and Lysa’s son had always been a sickly boy, and while he seemed somewhat better now in his teens, he still had seizures that were difficult to control at times and often left him feeling drained.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Arya called out then, and Ned looked across the lobby to see her approaching with Robb and Bran.

“Oh, you two look very handsome,” Catelyn exclaimed, going over to kiss both of them and then blot the lipstick marks off their cheeks. “Are you nervous?” she asked Robb.

“I don’t think so,” he said. He grinned at his mother. “I did take page out of Dad’s book, though, and I had a scotch and soda.”

“He’s not drunk, though, Mom,” Bran piped up. “I held him to just one.” Bran looked sideways at Ned. “Robb tells enough bad jokes when he’s sober!”

“Ha ha,” Ned said to his second son. “Arya, is the car ready?”

“Yep. Come on.”

Loading up took a few moments as they had to help Bran in and then fold up his chair, but soon they were on their way to the chapel.

“You look good in purple, Arya,” Bran said to his sister.

“Lilac,” Ned and Robb said at the same time, and then they burst into laughter. Apparently Jeyne had corrected his oldest son about the colors as often Catelyn had corrected Ned.

“Lilac with silver accents,” Arya said, winking. “Just wait until you see the flowers and then the table decorations. If you don’t like lilac and silver, you just might puke.”

“Arya!” Catelyn said.

“I’m only kidding, Mother. It’s all really pretty, actually. And Jeyne looks amazing, Robb.”

“You’ve seen her?” Robb asked, looking suddenly like an eager puppy.

“Of course, stupid. I’m a bridesmaid. We’ve been together pretty much all day.”

They arrived quickly at the chapel which Ned had to admit was a beautiful building in breathtaking location. He could have done without the open western wall in the sanctuary in spite of the spectacular view as it meant no air conditioning. In this climate, Ned Stark had a great appreciation for air conditioning.

“You won’t melt, my love,” Catelyn whispered into his ear, tugging at his arm to get him out of the car. Ned had long ago given up wondering how she read his mind so often. She swore she could do no such thing, but that was blatantly false.

“That looks awful,” Bran said, surveying the makeshift ramp up to the side door which had been hurriedly placed there for his chair. It led directly to the little room where he and Robb would wait until it was time for them to come out, and there were no stairs inside the chapel. Bran loved beautiful architecture, and Ned knew he took personal offense that the ugly ramp had been put there for him. 

“Maybe you can send them a better design for the next time they need something,” he told his son.

“I will,” Bran said. “That’s criminal.” At eighteen, Bran had already developed a passion for designing ramps, lifts, and other methods for accessibility that did not detract from the appearance or other functionality of buildings. He’d always dreamed of being an architect, and his creative building designs which combined gorgeous aesthetics with total accessibility had earned him a full college scholarship at one of the best schools for architecture in the country. Ned dreaded sending him off to Oldtown in the fall, but he was incredibly proud of him, and he knew Bran would do well.

“Uncle Ned! Aunt Cat!”

Ned looked up to see his nephew approaching them. Jon was almost exactly the same age as Robb, but had been taller by at least two inches since they boys had been about fifteen. “It’s good to see you, Jon!” he exclaimed. “I’m very glad you could escape for at least a day. Did Ygritte come?”

Jon scowled, and Ned saw Catelyn bite her lip to suppress her laughter. She’d told him repeatedly how much his nephew resembled him, and apparently this particularly dour face was one of his own expressions. When the boys were little and Jon had been with them so much of the time, people had often thought Jon his son rather than Robb. That had bothered Catelyn sometimes back then, but he knew she loved their nephew as much as he did, and she had reached the point over the years where she found a good bit of amusement in Ned’s and Jon’s resemblance to each other.

“She couldn’t get leave,” he said shortly, and Ned had the definite impression his nephew was holding something back.

“Is your mother in the chapel?” he asked.

Jon’s scowl deepened. “She’s in there,” he said. “You and Aunt Cat better go up front to the entry, Uncle Ned. Guests are arriving already, and Jeyne’s mother says she can’t be expected to greet all these people from out of town she doesn’t even know.”

“For the love of God,” Catelyn muttered under her breath. “I’ll get up there. Ned, you can stay with Robb if he prefers.” Turning to their nephew, she said, “Come on, Jon. I imagine you’re seating people, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, offering her his arm. “See you soon, Stark!” he called back to Robb as Catelyn nearly dragged him toward the front of the building.

“Dad,” Robb said. “I’ll be all right back here with Bran. You’d better go after Mom.”

“Are you sure, son?”

Robb smiled at him. “I’m sure, Dad. I’m sure about Jeyne. I’m sure about what I’m doing here today. I’ll be fine.”

Ned smiled back at his son. Robb’s hair shone in the late afternoon sun just as Catelyn’s did. He was a very handsome young man, with his mother’s coloring and her astonishing eyes. He had his auburn beard trimmed very close and neat for the wedding, but he hadn’t shaved it off. Ned had wondered to Catelyn once why Robb wore a beard, and she had laughed out loud at him. “Why, because you do, of course!” she’d exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Ned,” she’d said softly. “He wants to be just like you, and he knows he looks like me.” She’d rubbed his bearded cheek and smiled then. “But I can’t grow a beard, and you and he can.”

She’d been right, Ned had realized, just as she usually was about matters concerning their children. But, he still shook his head over it. He had grown his beard initially to give some character to what he considered his entirely unremarkable face. Brandon was the good looking Stark. Ned was just . . .there. The beard at least made him look more like a man and less like a boy. If he’d had Robb’s face growing up . . .

“Dad?” Robb said. “You’re staring at me.”

Ned pulled himself from his thoughts and put his hand on Robb’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “You’re a fine man, Robb. Jeyne is a lucky girl. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that you are my son.”

“I’m proud to be your son,” Robb said then. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known, and if I can be half the man you are, I’ll be better than most.”

Ned grabbed his son and embraced him then, and they just held onto each other silently for a moment.

“Okay, break it up!” Bran said then. “As best man, I’m supposed to keep the groom from turning into a pathetic emotional wreck before the ceremony.”

Ned and Robb let go of each other, laughing. Neither acknowledged the tears threatening to fall from both of their eyes. “Go on, Dad,” Robb said. “As you can see, Bran will keep me in line. And you showed me Arya’s texts. Do you really think it’s safe to leave Mom alone with Jeyne’s mother?”

“Oh god,” Ned answered. “Probably not.” He looked down at Bran. “Don’t let him go too crazy. The waiting is the hardest part.”

“You didn’t get cold feet at your wedding, did you, Dad?” Bran asked, grinning.

Ned returned his grin. “You’ve seen your mother. All I suffered from was impatience.”

“Um, TMI, Dad. TMI,” Bran said as Robb laughed.

“Be good, boys,” Ned said to them as he’d said at least a million times. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Ned had barely walked back around to the front of the chapel when he was met by his youngest.

“Dad! Thank God! Get in here and babysit Mother, will you? So I can get back to seating people like I’m supposed to.”

“What do you mean, babysit Mother?” Ned asked him in a low voice.

“Holy crap,” fourteen year old Rickon sighed. “As soon as Mom got in here, Jeyne’s mom started in on her about Aunt Lya’s dress, and how it’s too short and too tight and too this, that, and everything else. I thought Mom was going to hit her! But then she just kind of breathed real slow and then said in that Mother voice of hers, you know the one I mean, ‘Sybell, our children are getting married and I would like them to have a memorable wedding for only pleasant reasons. If you wish the same, I suggest you keep your opinions about the apparel of any of my family members to yourself.’”

Rickon’s impression of Cat was wickedly accurate, and Ned had to suppress a smile. He was also amused by the notion of Catelyn defending his sister’s fashion choices. Knowing his sister, her dress probably was too short, tight, and whatever else, and Catelyn would probably complain to him about it in detail later on, but God forbid Sybell Westerling criticize her! “Where’s Mom now?” he asked Rickon.

“Just inside. Mrs. Westerling stomped off in a huff after Mom said that, and I’ve kept Mom away from her since, but lots of people are coming in now, and I can’t make Jon and Jeyne’s brothers seat everybody!”

Ned patted Rickon on the back. “Consider yourself off duty as far as your mother’s concerned, son. I’ve got her.” 

Rickon grinned and nearly sprinted over to group of people just arriving causing Ned to laugh. Rickon was by far the wildest of their children, whether by natural inclination or because he and Catelyn been simply too worn down by the others to rein him in by the time he’d come along. Yet, he had a good heart, and he certainly took his responsibilities as a member of his brother’s wedding party seriously. Still laughing, Ned entered the chapel and found Catelyn in conversation with her brother and Roslin Frey.

“Hello, Ed,” he said as he approached. “Hello, Roslin. You look lovely.”

“Hello, Mr. Stark,” Roslin said quietly, ducking her head. She, at least, seemed cognizant of the awkwardness of this situation even if Edmure was his usual oblivious self.

“Ned!” Edmure exclaimed. “Ready to finally get rid of one of your brood?”

“Well, Robb’s been out on his own since he graduated college, Edmure,” Ned responded evenly. “But I am very happy for him today. He and Jeyne are quite happy together.”

Catelyn was unusually silent, and Ned wondered what on earth was wrong with her.

“Yeah, well hopefully they’ll stay happy,” Edmure said, not appearing to see anything wrong with making such a statement at a wedding. “Roslin and I better grab our seats. I want to make sure I’ve got a good view to watch that nephew of mine kiss the single life goodbye!”

“There are pews reserved for family near the front, Edmure,” Catelyn said quietly. 

“Oh . . .I don’t think . . .” Roslin started to say quietly, but Edmure interrupted.

“Yeah, I think Lysa and Petyr are already sitting. We’ll join them.”

Lysa and _Petyr?_ Surely, Edmure didn’t mean Baelish. He couldn’t possibly mean Baelish.

“Cat?” he said, looking at his wife as Edmure and Roslin walked away. “What was Edmure talking about?”

Catelyn shook her head slowly. “I can’t believe it,” she said. She looked at Ned rather helplessly. “Apparently, my sister intends to marry Petyr Baelish.”

“What?” Several people nearby turned to look at them, and Ned lowered his voice. “What?” he hissed. “Why the hell would your idiot sister marry that weasel?”

“Lysa is not an idiot,” she hissed back. “She’s just . . .Lysa.” She shook her head. “And I don’t know her reasons. I’m guessing this is her big news, but Edmure beat her to the punch and told me.”

“And she brought the man here? Jesus, Cat, what the hell is wrong with your family? Edmure brings Roslin and Lysa brings fucking Baelish to our son’s wedding?”

“I don’t know, Ned! I had no more warning on any of this than you did! But before you take off on my siblings, perhaps you should get a good look at Lyanna’s dress! My god! Jon is mortified. And Brandon and Ben aren’t even here yet, and the wedding is due to start in about fifteen minutes!”

Ned forced himself to take a deep breath and not respond quickly. The rational part of him knew that Catelyn was just as thrown by the Lysa and Petyr Baelish news as he was, but that she would defend her family reflexively in any case. Just as she’d defended Lya to Sybell Westerling.

He put his hands on her arms. “Robb is very anxious to be married,” he said. “I remember how I felt when I was in his position.”

“He isn’t nervous?” she asked him then, all other worries forgotten as her concern shifted to her son.

“Not at all. But so anxious to be married, I’m rather concerned about the relative lack of spare, somewhat private rooms in this building compared to your old church in Riverrun.”

She laughed then, and Ned felt at least some of the tension go out of her. “You are terrible, Eddard Stark.”

“I thought I was the most fun you’d had all day.”

“Well, you’re that, too.” The blue eyes he knew so well looked up at him, and he could see both her gratitude and her need for his continued support today. If he were honest with himself, that gave him a little thrill. While she’d told him repeatedly through the years how important he was to her, he often found it difficult to believe that his beautiful, smart, and altogether competent wife truly needed him. The confirmation of it in those eyes now warmed his heart.

“Ned! Bet you thought we wouldn’t make it back in time!”

Ned looked away from his wife to see his two brothers entering the chapel. “You nearly didn’t,” he said calmly. “How was the sailing?”

Brandon had insisted upon taking advantage of the wedding’s location in a coastal resort town to book a sailing excursion and had talked Ben into going with him. Ned had honestly been grateful for it. He loved Brandon, but he could be rather overbearing and had he talked his way into today’s golf outing, it might have been difficult. Brandon had turned fifty six months ago, and with two divorces behind him, he had declared his intent to live the ‘second half of his century’ by his own standards. Whatever that meant. Apparently, it included lots of travel, markedly decreased time at work, and vigorously stating his opinions about anyone and anything whether they were welcome or not. Ned wished it included some attempt at repairing his troubled relationships with the two children he shared with ex-wife number one, Barbrey. Both were now in their early twenties and had been invited to the wedding. Both had declined, probably because they knew their father would be there.

“Sailing was great,” Brandon said off-handedly as he approached. He grabbed both of Catelyn’s hands in his and ogled her from head to toe. “Hot damn, Cat! I know I’ve threatened for years to kill old Ned here and steal you back, but I think tonight’s the night I’m going to do it!” He actually dropped one hand and spun her around then so he could check out the rear view, and Ned clenched his jaw. “You are amazing, Catelyn Tully,” Brandon enthused when he’d turned her back around. 

Catelyn pulled her hand free of his and reached out to take Ned’s, giving it a squeeze. “Why, thank you, Brandon. But my name’s been Catelyn Stark now for over half our lives, you know.”

“Ah, but to me you’ll always be that pretty Tully girl with the unbelievable red hair who stole my heart in her first week on campus and then broke my heart by falling for my little brother.” Brandon smiled as he said it, and all three of them knew the truth about their college days--Brandon had been seeing a number of girls the entire time he dated Cat, including his eventual first wife, and he’d already begun to lose interest in her (frustrated by the fact that she wouldn’t sleep with him) by the time she and Ned had admitted their mutual attraction. Yet, for all his bravado, Ned was aware that his brother was less than happy with the way his life had turned out, and sometimes his expressed intents to steal Ned’s wife seemed to reveal a bit too much actual longing. It made Ned both sad and angry at times.

“You do look beautiful, Cat,” Benjen said quietly. “Ned is a lucky man.”

“Thank you, Ben,” Catelyn said very softly, putting her arms around him for a hug. “I’m so glad you decided to come. I know it won’t be easy for you.”

Ned could see the pain in his younger brother’s eyes, but Ben only said. “I wouldn’t miss my nephew’s wedding for anything.” Turning toward Ned, he said, “And the sailing really was great, Ned. Brandon was right about that. Someday, when you don’t have to play father of the groom, we should all three go out on a boat together.” 

Boats were far from Ned’s favorite things, but he did like the idea of doing something with both his brothers. He especially liked the genuine spark of enthusiasm in Ben’s voice when he’d said it. Ned had always been considered the most solemn of the Stark brothers, but since Dacey’s death eighteen months ago, Ben almost never smiled, and it broke Ned’s heart. Forty was far too young to be a widower, and Ben’s spirited wife had been only thirty-three when the drunk driver had taken her life and the life of the child she carried--the one they’d awaited so long, and been through so much to conceive. Ned honestly didn’t know how his brother continued to get up every morning. Just the thought of anything happening to Cat or one of their children caused his throat to tighten and his body to feel weak and sick.

“I’d like that, Ben,” he said to his brother now. “I’d like that a lot.”

“I don’t mean to bust up the family reunion, but I really need to get Uncle Brandon and Uncle Ben to their seats,” came Rickon’s voice. 

“I’ll take them, Rickon,” said Jon, coming up behind him. “They want you lined up with Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat already. Over there with Ray and Mrs. Westerling.”

“All right, boys,” Ned said. “Let’s all take our places then.”

Jon escorted Brandon and Benjen into the sanctuary up to the reserved family section. Ned realized with a panic that he’d forgotten to warn Brandon about Petyr Baelish’s presence there with Lysa and prayed briefly that his older brother would have enough sense to keep his mouth shut in a church. Rickon took his mother’s arm, and Ned followed them to a spot near the entrance to the center of the aisle where Sybell Westerling already stood with her son. Gawen was absent now, presumably having gone to wherever Jeyne and the girls were waiting.

“Remember, Mom,” Ned heard Rickon whisper as they approached Sybell. “No biting. No scratching.”

“You are not the least bit funny, Rickon,” Catelyn whispered back, but Ned found himself unable to keep from laughing.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The sanctuary was nearly full, and Catelyn smiled at people she knew as she walked down the aisle on Rickon’s arm with Ned following behind them . She realized with a start that her baby was taller than she was even in her heels. When had that happened? _They are all growing up,_ she thought with a heartrending mixture of pride and sadness. Only Arya remained shorter than she was as Sansa had surpassed her by an inch.

Rickon kissed her cheek and winked at her as he sat her in the front pew, and then Ned took her hand as he sat down beside her while they waited for Sybell Westerling to be escorted in by her oldest son. Once they arrived at their pew, Ned and Catelyn stood back up and walked forward with Sybell to the Unity Candle. The idiot woman had protested Ned’s taking part since her own husband was waiting to escort Jeyne in and wouldn’t be with her, but Robb had wanted his parents to do this together, and as it was about the only thing he’d insisted upon in the whole ceremony, Jeyne had taken his part. So, as soon as Sybell Westerling lit her candle and handed them the lighter, Ned and Catelyn put their hands together to light their own candle and both candles flickered brightly beside the taller candle in the center. When she thought of how Robb and Jeyne would soon bring the two flames together, and the center candle would flare into life, tears sprang to Catelyn’s eyes.

_Oh god. If I start crying now, I’ll be a mess by the time this is over._

Ned’s hand at her back steadied her, and they made their way back to their pew as the minister and Robb and Bran came out to stand at the front of the church. Catelyn thought her two oldest sons looked strikingly handsome. They looked quite a bit alike, although Bran did have slightly darker hair and eyes and was thinner. He wheeled himself up beside Robb with great dignity, and Catelyn felt the momentary stabbing grief that sometimes hit her even after all these years that he couldn’t stand beside his brother. She thought he was likely as tall as Robb now although it was difficult to know for certain since she never saw him completely upright, and once more she found herself cursing the skier who’d crashed into Bran all those years ago, sending him over a steep dropoff and breaking his back. Bran didn’t want pity, she knew, and he had certainly lived his life with a great deal of joy and enthusiasm in the almost ten years since that horrible accident. She was prouder of him than she could ever express, but sometimes her heart still broke for the things he might have done and now could not.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize the music had started for the bridesmaids’ entrance until Rollam Westerling and one of Jeyne’s friends were halfway down the aisle. She shifted her gaze to Robb then, and smiled at the look of anticipation on his face. He was a very handsome man, her son--Edmure’s model-perfect face with Ned’s dignity and bearing. The beard made him look older than his twenty-five years, but then he’d worn it since he was first old enough to grow it, and she couldn’t imagine him cleanshaven now without picturing a ten year old boy throwing snowballs at his cousin, Jon. 

_Married. My little boy is getting married._

She turned to watch Rickon and Arya coming up the aisle, both of them moving with more caution and seriousness than either was naturally inclined toward, and it made her smile. Rickon was several inches taller than his sister now, but Arya made up for her smaller stature with sheer force of personality. The two of them made a very striking pair, and both grinned at Ned and her as they walked past them to their places. Then Arya proceeded to make faces at Robb, and Rickon apparently told Rollam Westerling a joke which caused the poor boy to nearly double over with laughter as Ray Westerling escorted Jeyne’s other friend down the aisle. 

Catelyn started to frown at them, but Ned chuckled softly beside her. “Robb wouldn’t want them to be anyone but who they are, Cat,” he said softly. And he was right. Her son and daughter were beautiful, even when compelled to create laughter at the most formal of occasions. She honestly didn’t want them to be any other way, either. She just studiously avoided looking toward Sybell Westerling who would no doubt disapprove mightily.

Then Jon and Sansa started down the aisle, and Catelyn could actually hear several people draw in their breath. Beside her, she heard Ned breathe, “My god.” He then put his arm around her waist and squeezed. “She’s you, Cat.”

Sansa looked breathtaking. There was no other word for it. Arya had been right when she’d said her sister scarcely looked real. While she certainly resembled her mother closely, Catelyn knew her daughter was far more beautiful than she’d ever been. Her cousin beside her, with his serious expression, dark hair, and grey eyes resembled his uncle even more than usual, and looking at the two of them together gave Catelyn an odd sense of déjà vu. “She’s lovelier than I ever could be,” she whispered back to Ned, “But it is just a little bit like looking back at the two of us--some twenty years ago.”

He chuckled then. “Well, one of us has aged a lot since then and is very happy that his beautiful, youthful wife still wants him around.”

Before Catelyn could respond to that, Sansa and Jon reached the front of the church, and Ned said, “Arya was right you know. It isn’t fair at all to make those poor girls stand beside our daughters.”

She gave him a faintly disapproving glance, but then surveyed all five of their children now at the front of the church. “We do make very attractive children, don’t we?” she whispered.

“Wanna make another one when we can get out of here?” he said suggestively, leaning into her a bit.

“Hush!” she told him. But then she leaned close enough to whisper very quietly. “No more babies, Eddard Stark. But if you play your cards right, I’ll give you anything else you like.”

He raised his brows and started to say something else, but Eleyna Westerling had reached the front of the church to stand as maid of honor, and the chords played indicating the guests should rise for the bride’s entrance.

Jeyne was beautiful. She looked positively radiant on her father’s arm as he proudly escorted her down the aisle. Catelyn only looked at her for a moment, though, before turning once more to look at her son. Robb’s face glowed, and his eyes did not waver from Jeyne for even a moment as Gawen Westerling brought her forward and gave her hand to Robb. _He loves her,_ Catelyn thought. _He truly loves her._ Broken engagements, whirlwind romances, annoying in-laws, and even the possibility of Robb moving much further away from her than she would like diminished in importance as she watched her son and his bride look at each other. _He loves her, and she loves him. And if they both realize what a gift that is, then nothing else matters nearly as much._

She felt Ned take her hand, and he didn’t let go of her once as they watched their son make his vows to the woman he loved as the setting sun bathed the chapel in an astonishing range of colors as it reflected off the stained glass windows. The chapel had been ingeniously positioned to take full advantage of the ocean view and the setting sun without ever letting the rays come directly into the open side at an angle which would hit people in the eyes, so Catelyn didn’t have that as an excuse as she pulled a tissue from her purse to dab at her watering eyes.

She couldn’t say how long the ceremony actually lasted as time seemed to stand still for her, and Robb seemed to her to somehow be a squalling newborn with a dusting of red fuzz on his head, a laughing toddler who never seemed to know fear, a competitive little boy who treated every ballgame as a battle of monumental importance, and this surprisingly mature young man who was committing his life to another person all at the same time. 

_They are all growing up. Robb getting married. Sansa just graduating from college and starting her first teaching job in the fall. Arya announcing she intends to spend her junior year of college abroad. Bran going away to Oldtown for college in the fall. And Rickon, little Rickon, starting high school. How short a time we get to hold them close._

When the minister finally pronounced them man and wife, and Robb kissed Jeyne, a cheer went up from the wedding guests, but Catelyn’s heart was too full for her to make a sound. Robb and Jeyne went first to her parents and then came to Ned and herself before they began the recessional back down the aisle. 

“You look lovely, Mrs. Stark,” Jeyne whispered to Catelyn as she gave her a quick hug.

“And you look absolutely divine, Mrs. Stark,” Catelyn answered, causing the girl to grin widely before she turned to hug Ned.

Robb then grabbed her in a hug so tight, Catelyn almost couldn’t breathe. “I love you, Mom,” he whispered, and the tears she’d kept under some semblance of control began to flow freely.

“I love you, too, Robb. Always.”

She didn’t hear whatever it was he said to Ned as she was grabbing for another tissue from her purse, but she did see that he hugged his father as tightly as he’d hugged her. _He’s a good man, our son. We’ve loved him as well as we know how, and he’ll love Jeyne as well as he knows how._

After that, things moved at a fairly rapid pace as the wedding party all went down the aisle, and then Raynald returned for his parents and Rickon returned for Ned and herself. There was some milling about of everyone outside the chapel for a few moments with hugging and exclamations, but Robb and Jeyne had decided to forgo any sort of formal receiving line in favor of greeting the guests at the reception so that they could quickly get the pictures they wanted before they lost the light.

Ned and Catelyn remained to smile and pose for whatever pictures they were required to take part in. Catelyn was most interested in the picture taken of the two of them with their five children and new daughter-in-law, and she prayed that the photographer managed to get at least one shot where no one was making a silly face.

Finally all pictures involving them were finished, and she and Ned made their way to one of the cars waiting to take people back up to the hotel for the reception. As they settled into the back seat, she heard a familiar voice call out. “Wait! You don’t mind if we hitch a ride with you, do you?”

She looked up to see Petyr Baelish bending down and looking into the still open door of the car. “Lysa, dear,” he said, looking behind him. “We can share with Cat and Ned. It’s a bit cramped in the back. Why don’t you sit up front by the driver where you’ll be more comfortable?” Before anyone could say anything, Petyr had opened the front passenger door and ushered Lysa in and then slid into the backseat beside Catelyn.

“It was a lovely wedding, Cat,” Lysa turned around to say. “I got so many ideas for mine!”

“Yes,” Catelyn said. “Edmure told me congratulations were in order.”

Lysa had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “I was going to tell you,” she said. “I just didn’t know how you’d react, and you had enough going on with this wedding. Please be happy for me, Cat.”

Catelyn looked at her sister. Life had not always treated her kindly. Someone had once hurt her very badly although she’d never shared any of the details with Catelyn, and she’d married Jon Arryn thinking that she could at least be safe with him. Jon had been a wonderful, kind man, but Lysa had never truly loved him and had grown to resent him as the years went by, particularly as she’d never been able to have children after Robert. Years of miscarriages and unsuccessful infertility treatments along with the stress of caring for Robert with his severe epilepsy had made her bitter. Catelyn wanted to be happy for her. She truly did. She simply wasn’t certain that this proposed marriage wasn’t as much an act of desperation as Lysa’s first had been. 

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” she said finally, and Lysa smiled.

“You should always be happy, Cat,” Petyr said, taking her hand. “Your smile is a treasure.”

He held her hand more tightly as she tried to pull it away, and she felt the vague discomfort that she had always felt around Petyr since the long ago day he’d shown up on her college campus out of the blue at the ridiculously young age of fifteen and announced to Brandon Stark that she was his girl and Brandon should leave her alone. Brandon had been drunk enough at the time to hit him, and the poor boy had gone down after only two punches. Catelyn had tended to him and gotten a friend to drive him home. Yet, in spite of her telling him that she would never see him as anything other than a very dear friend, he’d made similar declarations to her a few more times over her college years, and even once just after she married Ned.

She’d deliberately avoided him whenever possible after that, and although she knew that he and Lysa had remained close, she’d never dreamed the two of them would marry. The way the man was looking at her now did nothing to reassure her about the situation. “You were easily the most beautiful woman in the church tonight, Cat,” Petyr continued, and Catelyn couldn’t stand the look of hurt and jealousy on Lysa’s face.

“I think my son would disagree,” she said lightly. “Jeyne was positively glowing, and the two of them were so beautiful together.”

“Well, she is a pretty girl,” Petyr conceded, “and your son gets all his looks from you, fortunate boy.”

Ned had not said a word since Petyr had managed to insinuate himself into the car, and she could feel the tension in his body as she leaned against him. “He does favor me in looks,” she agreed neutrally. “Of course, Jeyne is lucky that his character and his heart are entirely his father’s.” She pulled her hand forcefully away from Petyr’s then and turned to put both her hands on her husband’s face. “I know better than anyone alive just how fortunate a woman Jeyne Westerling Stark really is.”

Ned’s posture didn’t relax one bit, but his eyes softened slightly as he looked at her, and after a moment he said, “Well, Robb has done well for himself. Jeyne’s a sweet, lovely girl. But there no women quite like you, so I remain the most fortunate man I know.”

“What a lovely thing to say!” Lysa gushed then. “Petyr! Will you say such lovely things when we’ve been married as long as Ned and Cat have?”

Catelyn looked toward Petyr Baelish then and did not like the way his eyes darkened at all, but he simply replied mildly, “Of course, my sweet Lysa. Of course.”

As soon as the car stopped in front of the hotel, Ned opened his door and all but jerked Catelyn out behind him without a word to anyone else. As he guided her rather hurriedly into the hotel and toward the reception hall, he muttered, “Your sister is a fool if she thinks Petyr Baelish wants her.”

“Ned . .” she started.

“The little prick was undressing you with his eyes, Cat! Lysa may be blind, but I am not. And if he so much as lays one hand on you tonight, I’ll toss him out of the reception myself, your sister’s feelings on the matter be damned.”

She started to protest, but then remembered the way Petyr had refused to let go of her hands and the way he had looked at her with Ned. “All right,” she said. “I’ll try to stay away from him, but if he’s out of line, I’ll have him escorted out. And I’ll deal with Lysa.” She looked at him. “But I don’t want you getting in some stupid fight over me at Robb’s wedding reception!”

“You’re my wife,” he said simply. “I don’t like the way he looks at you. I don’t like the way he thinks about you.”

She stopped walking then, pulled him to the side of the corridor, and put her arms around his neck. “It doesn’t matter if he looks at me because I don’t look back to see it. It certainly doesn’t matter what he thinks of me because I don’t think of him at all.” She smiled up at her husband. “Wipe that scowl off your face, Ned. Your son just got married. Our families are here to celebrate. And your wife will show you just how much she loves you once this reception is over.”

He put his arms around her then, and kissed her forehead. “Can we skip to that last part now?”

“No. We are going to eat, drink, and be merry. We’re going to listen to Bran toast the happy couple and watch Robb and Jeyne have their first dance. And then you are going to dance with me.” She laughed as he frowned. “Yes, Eddard Stark. You are going to dance with me. And once we’ve sent Robb and Jeyne off to their suite, you may take me upstairs and do whatever you wish with me. But not before then.”

“Whatever I wish?

“Whatever you wish.”

“Well, let’s get this reception started then,” he said, offering her his arm, and she laughed as she went in with him to greet the guests and await the arrival of the bride and groom.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

The reception hall did look beautiful, Ned had to admit. The _lilac_ and _silver_ table decorations the girls had worked so hard on were quite pretty. He was seated beside his beautiful wife at one of the tables just below the head table for the bridal party, and he had his elder daughter to thank for the relative peace at that table since Catelyn and Lyanna had reached a sort of détente after the bridal party arrived. As not one of his or Catelyn’s siblings had RSVPed that they were bringing guests, the eight places at their table had originally been assigned to Cat, himself, their five combined siblings, and Cat’s Uncle Brynden. Sansa, having discovered both Roslin’s and Petyr’s presence in time to take action before the ceremony, had ordered someone to swap Lysa’s placecard for Roslin, recognizing that her father and uncle would likely tolerate dinner with Roslin far better than with Petyr Baelish. She’d managed to move a couple away from a nearby table with one empty seat so that she could place Lysa and Petyr there and also move Cat’s uncle to that table so Lysa wouldn’t feel she was being completely isolated from her family. That left Ned’s table with one empty seat and some residual tension, but at least no diners he felt compelled to threaten with bodily harm.

Appetizers had already been put out for the guests and the bar was open by the time he and Cat arrived, and they had wandered around speaking with various people as they awaited the bridal party before joining their siblings at their table.

“Gotta admit it was a beautiful wedding, Ned,” Lyanna had greeted them as they approached. “Are you giving odds on how long the marriage will last yet?”

Catelyn had stiffened beside him. His wife and sister had gained a certain appreciation for each other over the years, but they were very different women who saw the world through very different eyes. And Lya knew better than to say anything remotely negative about his children in front of Cat. 

“Weren’t you listening, Lya?” Ned had said, raising a brow as he held out Catelyn’s chair before sitting down himself. “I clearly heard them both say Til Death Do Us Part.”

Lyanna had snorted. “You and Cat are anachronisms, and you know it. Do you see any other married people at this table?”

“Til death do us part, Lya. Ned and Cat aren’t the only people sitting here who said it and meant it,” Benjen had said softly, looking directly at their sister. 

At least Lya had looked a little abashed at that. “I’m sorry, Ben. My tongue gets ahead of my brain sometimes.” She hadn’t been ready to give it up, though. “I still say that marriage is a bad idea in general,” she’d proclaimed. “How about you, Roslin? Given your experience with him, what do you think Robb’s chances of sticking with this one are?”

Poor Roslin had actually choked on her drink. “I . . .I think Robb and Jeyne love each other,” she’d said quietly. “Robb and I . . .we knew each other almost our whole lives. Our families knew each other. I think we just kind of fell into it, if you know what I mean. We liked each other well enough . . .and it was . . .I don’t know, expected.” She’d shrugged. “I think Robb just figured out that _expected_ doesn’t necessarily mean _right_ before I did.” She’d smiled at Edmure Tully beside her then. “I know it now, though,” she’d said with a smile.

“Thank God for that!” Catelyn’s brother had exclaimed, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “It’s a win-win situation as far as I see it,” he’d grinned at all of them. “Robb seems happy enough, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I flatter myself that Ros is pretty happy, too.”

Ned’s son’s former fiancee had responded to that by planting a kiss directly on his brother-in-law’s lips, and Ned looked at his wife who had a sort of bemused smile on her face. She’d given him a tiny shrug as if to say, ‘if everyone seems all right with this, let’s go with it,’ and lifted her wine glass to her lips.

Lyanna just couldn’t let it go, however. “Well, you’re very cute together now,” she’d said to Edmure and Roslin, “But I’ve known Ed a long time, my dear. In spite of the fact that you’re nearly young enough to be his daughter, you’ll likely be too old for him within five years and then what will you . . .”

“Lyanna!” Catelyn had snapped. “I am very sorry that you are so unhappy in your life. But this is my son’s wedding day, and I’ll not spend it listening to you insult Robb or my brother.”

“What do you know about my life, Cat?” Lyanna had responded with far more venom than Ned had thought warranted, but before she could continue, the DJ had announced the arrival of the bridal party, and Lyanna had looked toward the doorway to see Jon standing there with Sansa waiting their turn to walk in. She’d sighed deeply and then looked at Cat in an almost apologetic manner. “Ignore me,” she’d quietly. “Enjoy your son’s wedding.”

Then she’d gotten up and walked over to the bar, and Ned had gotten his first full look at the dress Sybell Westerling found so objectionable. Like Arya, Lyanna was more slender lines than curves, but every curve she had was shown to its full advantage in her form-fitting blue dress. Her legs, which she had always considered her best feature, were on full display as the blue dress came to an abrupt stop just below her hips. She actually looked quite good in it, and had they been at a nightclub, no one would have looked askance, but it was a bit questionable for her nephew’s wedding. Lyanna had never been one to care terribly much what other people thought of her, however.

“Something’s bothering her, Ned,” Catelyn had said as the DJ announced the first pair of attendants. “Something that has nothing to do with Robb or us.”

Ned had nodded and looked to his brothers. Both of them simply shrugged, and he made a note to himself to have a talk with Lya before the night was over.

All the members of the bridal party received polite applause from the guests, and there was rather a lot of shouting and cheering when Robb and Jeyne came in, both grinning from ear to ear. They’d stopped at each table to briefly say hello and thanks for coming to all of the guests as they made their way to the head table, and then the servers came around to take dinner orders. 

Lyanna had returned to their table with a new drink in hand and wordlessly taken her seat just as the server came over. “I think you’ll like the chicken, Lyanna,” Catelyn had said simply. “I was here for the dish sampling Thursday, and it’s got that sauce you like.”

It was an olive branch, and Lyanna had taken it. “Sounds good,” she’d said.

So now, Ned sat at the table finishing up his dinner as Bran began clinking on his glass. The DJ handed him a microphone, and Bran began to speak.

“I hope you’ll all forgive me for not standing up,” he started. Those who knew him well laughed out loud, but many of those who didn’t simply looked uncomfortable, and Ned shook his head at Bran’s insistence upon self-deprecating humor. “But I am the best man here,” Bran continued, “so apparently I have to make a toast. It’s easy to toast Jeyne. As far as I can tell, her only flaw is the questionable judgment that caused her to marry my goofball brother.” He grinned, and this time the laughter was pretty universal. “Nah, seriously. Jeyne is beautiful and kind and loving, and everything any man could wish for in a bride, and I congratulate my brother on getting so incredibly lucky.” Some applause broke at then, and Bran held up his hands. “But I know that she’s lucky, too. Because I’ve known Robb all my life. He can be a pain in the a . . . Sorry, Mom,” he said with a sheepish grin in Catelyn’s direction. “He can be a pain in the gluteus maximus, but he will never, ever let you down. If Robb’s got your back, you’re covered. And I have good reason to know that.” He looked down then, and Ned realized that he was actually getting choked up. The crowd waited silently for him to continue, and he did. “I’ve been in this chair now for half my life. And there have been times it wasn’t easy. And times I wanted to quit, or thought I couldn’t do something. Robb never let me quit. He always believed I could do anything. And he’s always had my back when things were tough. Because he loves me. And he loves Jeyne like I’ve never seen him love anybody. So, Jeyne . . .he’s got your back. You two are gonna be great together. And Robb . . .I love you, brother. And I am so happy for you today I can’t see straight . . .which kinda sucks since I already can’t walk.”

Being Bran, he had to temper the emotion with a joke, and this time everyone laughed with him. “To Robb and Jeyne!” Bran said, lifting his glass. “My brother and new sister---may you have all the happiness two such awesome people deserve!”

Ned felt Catelyn squeeze his hand and looked at her to see tears shining in her eyes again. He wondered how many tissues that tiny little clutch of hers held and feared that it couldn’t possibly be enough. Jeyne’s sister gave a toast as well, congratulating the couple and welcoming Robb to her family. ‘Like that’s a prize,’ Brandon deadpanned, and Edmure and Lyanna laughed out loud while Catelyn looked daggers at them all.

“Oh, don’t get all high and mighty, sis,” Edmure told her. “Arya’s been regaling everyone with your exploits at brunch, and Rickon should get paid money for his impression of you telling the old bitch off for running her mouth about Lyanna’s dress.” He smiled at Lyanna. “Lyanna’s very hot dress, I might add. It appears I’m surrounded by the hottest women in the room right here at this table. Good thing at least one of you is not a relative by blood or marriage!”

Roslin only laughed at him, apparently used to Edmure’s brand of humor, but Lyanna stared at Catelyn questioningly. It would seem she hadn’t heard Rickon’s impression.

“Sybell was being very rude,” Catelyn said simply with a slight shrug. 

“I’ll bet,” Lyanna said, almost smiling at Catelyn. “Hey, it looks like Robb’s going to speak.”

Robb was standing up now, holding the microphone, and he thanked everyone for coming to share this day with Jeyne and him. He went on to speak glowingly of his new bride who blushed prettily beside him, and tilted her face up happily for the kiss he bent to give her.

As everyone cheered, Robb straightened up again to address the guests once more. “So many people have helped Jeyne and me get to this point in our lives. And we love all of you so much. But I need to especially thank two people, my parents--Eddard and Catelyn Stark.” Robb swallowed hard and looked over at them. “Mom. Dad. You’ve been the most wonderful parents, and I know my brothers and sisters agree. Someday, when I’m a father myself, I’ll be looking to you know how it’s done right. But right now, I want to thank you more for the way you’ve loved each other. If I’m any kind of good husband at all, Jeyne should send you a thank you card because everything I’ve learned of marriage, I’ve learned from watching you.”

Ned felt tears threatening his own eyes now as he looked at his beautiful son standing there and speaking those words in front of a room full of people, and when he stole a glance at Catelyn, he knew without a doubt that she could not possibly have enough tissues in that ridiculously tiny purse.

The cake cutting went well as did the newly married couple’s first dance. When their song ended, Jeyne went to her father and led him out onto the dance floor for the next song, and after the first few measures, Robb came to claim Catelyn from Ned’s side. He watched them dance, his stunning wife and son with their matching copper hair shining. He remembered the first time he’d seen her holding Robb, a tiny little thing with scant copper curls. Now Robb held Catelyn, and she looked up at him with an expression on her face nearly identical to that with which she had looked down upon him when she‘d held him as an infant. 

When the song ended, and Robb had walked her back over to him, Ned found himself embracing them both. Jeyne asked him to dance the next dance, and as much as he disliked dancing, he found himself rather pleased to spin his new daughter-in-law around the floor while Robb danced with Sybell Westerling. After that, the dance floor began to fill with various people. Ned danced with Catelyn any time a slow song came on, but otherwise was content to sit and watch, even when Catelyn was pulled out onto the floor by his daughters to twist and shake and jump around to all manner of pop songs that he barely knew. 

He enjoyed watching his three girls together. He was thrilled to see how much fun Robb and Jeyne appeared to be having. He’d stopped Rickon from having older people get him drinks from the bar twice and continued to keep a close eye on him. Bran seemed content talking to his friends Meera and Jojen Reed. Howland and his family were some of the only friends from the north who’d managed to make the trip, and Ned allowed himself a moment to miss the people he loved who could not be there--Jon Arryn and Ben’s Dacey, both taken before they could share this happy day. Robert . . .Thinking of Robert’s absence and its cause still hurt too much.

The strains of a slow song started playing and he stood up to seek out his wife. As he walked, he caught sight of Raynald Westerling reach out to grab Sansa’s arm in order to ask her to dance. She didn’t see him before he touched her, however, and she immediately flinched and drew away. The panic on her face was fleeting, but Ned saw it and knew its source well enough. _Damn Joffrey Baratheon to hell! he thought bitterly._

Sansa no longer looked terrified, but she had been clearly shaken to the point that she didn’t want to dance with Ray. Quickly, Ned walked over to them.

“Forgive me, Ray,” he said, “But I haven’t gotten a dance with my daughter yet tonight, and as I actually know this song, I wonder if you’d do an old man a favor, and let me barge in.”

“Of course,” Ray said, smiling. “I will see you once you’ve danced with your father, Sansa.” Ray wasn’t really a bad sort. Just a bit pompous like his father. And an abysmal golfer.

“You know this song, Daddy?” Sansa asked, when he’d put his arms around her. “Really?” She raised her eyebrow in disbelief and looked so like her mother, Ned caught his breath.

“Of course not. But I needed an excuse to dance with my beautiful daughter.”

She laughed, but looked at him knowingly. “You saw me jump,” she said. “I’m all right, Daddy. Truly. He just startled me is all.”

“Mmm,” Ned murmured darkly. Then he kissed his daughter’s forehead. “I cannot help wanting to protect you, Sansa. I would take that fear away from you if I could.”

“I know you would, Dad. And I am better. Really, I am.” She smiled up at him. “I went on a date just before the semester ended.”

“A date?” Ned asked. “Why was I not informed so that I could put the fear of God into the young man?”

Sansa knew he was teasing, and she laughed. “Well . . .it wasn’t a real date. It was just Marg’s older brother. Her oldest brother, actually.” She looked at Ned carefully as if trying to assess his reaction. “He’s really nice, though,” she said when Ned didn’t respond. “Even though he is quite a bit older than I am.”

“There seems to be a lot of that going around,” Ned said as Edmure spun Roslin around close by them. “You liked this man? He treated you well?”

“It was one date!” Sansa said, laughing. Growing more serious, she said, “And it’s hard, I admit. I feel like I was so stupid before. I mean when I think of what I let Joff do to me . . .and how long I let it go on.” She shook her head. “I feel so stupid and ashamed, Daddy,” she said quietly, putting her head on his shoulder and not looking up at him. “And it’s hard to trust anyone.”

Ned felt the cold fury that always filled him when he thought of Joffrey Baratheon. His best friend’s son! The boy whom everyone had thought Sansa would marry. The boy who’d been beating her for two years without any of them realizing it. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Sansa,” he said more gruffly than he intended. _I should be ashamed. You are mine to protect, and I never even saw it. Not for two whole years!_

The song ended, and Sansa stood back and smiled up at him. “I do like him, though,” she said. “Willas, I mean. Marg’s brother. He’s called and texted me a few times since I got home from school, and he’s funny and sweet.” She hesitated. “I think I would like to see him again. But I promise I won’t ever let anyone hurt me like that--like Joff did. Never again, Daddy.”

“No,” Ned said. “Never again. You won’t allow it, and I will kill any bastard who tries it. All right?”

She laughed at him. “If Mother doesn’t kill him first. Or Robb or Arya or Bran or Rickon. Or Jon! Jon growls at men who just talk to me now, and he really needs to stop it. I don’t know how Ygritte puts up with him.” A shadow passed over her face then.

“Sansa,” Ned said cautiously. “Do you know what’s wrong with Jon? Something seems off with him tonight.” _Something’s off with Lya, too._

“I . . .Maybe you should talk to him.”

Ned realized then that his daughter did know what was bothering Jon. The two of them had never been as close as Robb and Jon or Arya and Jon growing up for all that Jon spent over half his time with them at Winterfell. But when the whole thing with Joffrey had blown up all over the place, Jon had been a steady source of support for her while her siblings and even Catelyn and himself went a little insane themselves for awhile. Since then, they seemed to share confidences, and Ned knew that Sansa knew far more about Jon’s relationship with his long time on again-off again girlfriend than any of the rest of them.

“Is it something to do with Ygritte?”

Sansa looked miserable. “Daddy . . .talk to Jon, okay?”

“You know I only want to help him, don’t you? How can I do that if I don’t know what’s wrong. Did they break up again? Is that the real reason she didn’t come with him?”

“No!” Sansa said. “Although that’s what Aunt Lya thought, too, and got all happy about it. But when Jon told her that . . .” She stopped herself.

“Jon told her what Sansa?”

Sansa looked down. “Ygritte’s pregnant. She’s three months along and they haven’t told anybody in their unit yet, and Jon’s just a mess, and . . .” She looked back up at Ned. “Please don’t tell him I told you!”

“I won’t, princess. I promise.”

“Uh oh,” she said then, looking over his shoulder.

“What?”

“You’d better go claim Mom. That’s another slow song, and Littlefucker is headed her way.”

“Sansa!” Ned exclaimed, shocked at his daughter’s language. He knew full well that Brandon had long ago taught his children the bastardized version of the man’s nickname, but he had never once heard that word in any form from Sansa’s lips.

“Sorry, Dad. But if anyone deserves obscenities, it’s that little creep. In his own way, I swear he’s as twisted as Joff. Marrying Aunt Lysa after years of stalking Mom? That’s just gross.”

“Yeah,” Ned said. He needed to get to Catelyn, but he hesitated to leave Sansa after their conversation. He needed to know she was all right. 

“Go get Mom,” she said, as if reading his mind. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ned!” Catelyn called out in obvious relief as she saw him coming toward her. “I told Petyr I’d already promised you next slow song.”

The foul little man had his hand on her arm, but she shook it off and practically launched herself at Ned. He spun her away across the dance floor without a word to Baelish, completely ignoring the man’s glare. 

“Is Sansa all right? I saw you two dancing, and it looked more like a heart-to-heart than any dancing I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s as all right as she can be, Cat. After what that animal did to her.”

Catelyn sighed. “It will take time, Ned. Her therapist told us that, remember? And she is moving forward. She’s excited about starting her job and . . .”

“She had a date. She said she went out with some . . .”

“Willas Tyrell.”

“You knew?”

“Of course. She told me when back when Margaery first set them up. Oh, don’t look at me like that. She didn’t want you to worry about her. And she told you, herself, tonight, didn’t she?”

Ned must have still looked grim because she tiptoed up to kiss him briefly. “She’s getting better, Ned. And she will be happy. Sansa has too much joy inside her to live her life unhappy.”

While those words reassured Ned about his daughter, they made him worry about his sister and her son, neither of whom seemed to have much joy within them today. Jon put on a better show than his mother, but Ned had known something was off about him since he’d first asked about Ygritte, and since speaking with Sansa, he at least knew what part of it was about. Given his sister’s history with her own pregnancy with Jon, he couldn’t imagine she’d reacted positively to the news at all. He gave Catelyn an abbreviated version of what he had learned.

“Oh god,” she said, shaking her head. “Go find him, Ned. Or find Lyanna. No wonder they don’t seem to be speaking to each other.”

“Will you be all right?” he asked. “I’m sorry, Cat, but I cannot abide the thought of that man dancing with you.”

“I won’t dance with Petyr,” she said. “I promise. I’ve got Brandon, Benjen, Brynden, and all of our sons to dance with.” She smiled. “Gawen Westerling asked for a dance, too, but Sybell’s glare nearly killed him after that, so I’m not certain he’ll be claiming that dance.” She looked up at him teasingly. “You are welcome to ask Sybell to dance if you like.”

Ned looked down at her. “There are a great many unpleasant things I am willing to do for the happiness of our children. That, however, is not one of them.”

Her laughter as he walked away from her momentarily lightened his mood, but it immediately fell again as he saw his sister sitting at the bar texting someone on her phone.

“Can I talk to you, Lya?” he asked, taking a seat next to her.

“It’s your party,” she said.

He smiled. “Technically it’s Gawen Westerling’s party. Mine was last night.”

“Ah yes,” his sister said with a smile. “And you were much more of a party animal last night, Eddard.” She laughed. “Did your proper little wife scold you when she got you up to your room?”

“No,” he said flatly. “And what my wife _did_ do to me once we got back to our room is none of your damn business, Lya.” He sighed. “Your problem tonight is not with Catelyn, so stop making it about her.”

“Ah, so my son has filled you in on his little problem?” she said. “I can’t believe he was such an idiot. That girl will do anything to keep her hooks in him.”

Ned simply raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, Eddard, I am aware of how hypocritical I sound. But I had hoped Jon would learn from my mistakes and not get dragged into into an endless cycle of shit with his redheaded soldier girl playing the part of Rhaegar Fucking Targaryen.” She sighed. “Jon doesn’t need a damn kid, and he doesn’t need child support payments. I told him to demand a paternity test.”

“It isn’t the same situation, Lya. For starters, neither Jon nor Ygritte is married. Nor is one of them barely nineteen, and they have been more or less dating for at least three years now.”

“She’s no good for him, Ned. She’ll trap him into marriage or just take every dime he’s got and make his life hell. I know her type.”

“Oh?” Ned asked her. “Is that what you did to Rhaegar?”

“Fuck you, Ned!” Lyanna nearly shouted. “You know perfectly well I never asked that asshole for a damn thing once he made it clear he wouldn’t leave his precious little wife. I raised Jon on my own!”

Ned raised his brow again.

“Dammit, I never asked you and Catelyn to take him all the time! You volunteered.” She shrugged. “And he always seemed to prefer the two of you to me anyway. But I never took a thing from Rhaegar. Asshole’s maybe had fifteen conversations with Jon in his entire life.”

Ned shook his head. “Jon never preferred us to you, Lya. But he did like the idea of a home. And God knows he loves his cousins. And my kids think of him more as a brother.”

“Yeah. I know that. I’m sorry I’m being so shitty to you tonight. And to Catelyn, too.” Her phone beeped, and she looked down and typed a response to someone. “It’s just that he’s fucked up big time now, and there’s no fix for it. He already told me she won’t consider an abortion.”

“You wouldn’t, when you found yourself pregnant with Jon,” Ned reminded her. 

Lya didn’t respond. She simply answered another text on her phone.

“Has it occurred to you that Jon might actually want to marry Ygritte? He has always seemed to genuinely care for her when they’ve been around us. Has he said . . .”

“Marriage is a trap!” Lyanna shot back. “Oh, I know, I know. I’m speaking to the most happily married man in the country. Nobody gets what you have, Ned! Don’t you get that? Look around this room. And don’t you dare point to Ben, because what did marriage bring him, exactly? Yes, he and Dacey really loved each other. And they spent eight years being miserable and at each other’s throats half the time going through hell to have a baby, and when she finally got pregnant, she fucking died in a car crash! Do you think Ben’s happier now than he would have been if he’d never met Dacey Mormont? Because I don’t. Just look at him.”

She sighed. “Rhaegar was miserable in his marriage. Probably still is. Cat’s ridiculous sister hated poor old Jon Arryn by the time he died. God knows Robert hated that blonde bitch he finally got around to divorcing. And Brandon’s tried it twice with no success. And one look at Jeyne’s parents is enough to tell you they probably haven’t seen each other naked in years. They can barely tolerate each other. As for kids, you and Cat have put more energy into your five than anyone I know, and Bran is still a paraplegic for life and Sansa spent two years getting the shit beat out of her by Robert’s psychopath son. Don’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, Ned. Don’t tell me your precious Catelyn hasn’t cried herself to sleep nights over your kids. I love Jon more than anything on this earth, and no one has ever caused me more pain.” She shook her head, and Ned was surprised to see actual tears in her eyes. Lyanna never cried. “Marriage. Kids. It’s what everyone tells you you’re supposed to want. But it brings nothing but misery. So I’m sorry if I can’t be all excited about Robb’s little bride or Jon’s impending bundle of joy. I know what lies down that road.”

“Lya,” Ned said softly. “You’re right about marriage--for you. It was never Robert you were running from. It was a life that doesn’t fit you. It never did. It never will. It doesn’t fit Brandon either, even if it took him fifty years to figure that out. But that doesn’t make it trap for everyone. Catelyn is the only freedom I know, and the only life I want.” He reached out and took his sister’s hand. “Don’t make Jon live life according to your wants and needs. That’s what Dad tried to do to you, remember? He had a hard time just letting you be you. Let Jon be Jon. He has to find his own way, Lyanna.”

Her phone beeped yet again, and Ned got irritated. “Who the hell do you keep texting?”

She looked up at him with a rather sheepish expression. “Robert says hi.”

“Robert . . .Baratheon?” Ned asked her incredulously.

She nodded as the phone beeped once more. “He says he wishes Robb and Jeyne all the best. He’s sorry he couldn’t be here, but he knows you understand.” She looked up. “He’s sorry about all of it, Ned. You know that don’t you?”

“Why the devil are texting Robert Baratheon?”

Lyanna sighed. “He called me after his divorce was final. We’ve . . .seen each other a few times.”

Ned stared at his sister, wondering if she’d lost her mind. “Jesus, Ned, I’m not going to marry the asshole. He likes to fuck around too much, and I’m allergic to anyone thinking they can tell me what to do. It’s like you said. Marriage is not a life that suits either of us.” She shrugged. “We did actually have some fun together though, once upon a time. Turns out we still do.” When Ned continued to stare at her, she said, “Oh, come on, Ned! You know he’s not an entirely bad person. He may be the sluttiest man on the planet and his temper is awful, but you know him better than almost anyone. You know how generous he can be. How . . .enthusiastic and . . .” She broke off and started laughing. “Oh my god! I’m actually defending Robert to you! What a difference twenty-something years makes, huh?”

Ned wanted to smile at that, but something still bothered him. God knew he had never liked Cersei Lannister and had tried to talk Robert out of ever marrying the girl, but looking back at the scarves and long sleeves she had sometimes worn when the weather seemed too warm for such things, and knowing how Sansa had been when Joffrey had been abusing her . . . .He didn’t want to believe it of the man he had once called brother, but . . . “Lya,” he said cautiously. “About Robert’s temper . . .”

“He doesn’t hit me, Ned, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said bluntly. “He hit Cersei, you know. He’s not a sadistic bastard like his damned kid. It was never like what happened to Sansa, but he’d lose his temper with her and grab her arms or shove her. He even hit her in the face a couple times, he told me. He felt like shit about it.” Ned simply stared at her. “I’m not excusing it, Ned. The two of them together were toxic, but he never had a right to hit her. He didn’t have to tell me about it, though, and he did. He told me if I ever even thought he might hurt me, I should go far away from him and never come back.” She shrugged. “He’s an asshole, but we don’t ask each other for anything more than good conversation, a bit of company, and an occasional roll in the hay. It works.”

Ned shook his head. “I cannot excuse violence against women. By anyone. Not after . . .” He shook his head again.

“I know,” Lya said softly. “So does he. We both know that the distance from King’s Landing to The Crag is not the reason he didn’t come to this wedding. You looked him in the eyes and told him that if you ever so much as saw his son near Sansa again, you’d kill the little bastard with your own hands. He knows what Joffrey is, Ned. And he knows he helped make him that way. He can’t be around you because he’s knows you’re right to feel as you do. And he’s ashamed.”

Ned sat silently for a moment. He wasn’t certain how he felt about a lot of what Lyanna had said. He couldn’t ever forgive Joffrey for what he’d done to Sansa. Never. And he could never excuse Robert abusing Cersei in any way, regardless of how messed up that marriage had always been. But he couldn’t simply forget all the years that Robert had been even closer to him than Brandon or Ben. And that left him feeling very sad.

“Maybe you should try giving your son as much understanding as you’re willing to give Robert,” he said finally. “Maybe it’s harder because you care more about Jon. But it’s more important, too, Lya.”

With that, he got up from the bar and walked away from her. 

He finally found Jon outside staring at the ocean. 

“I just had a very interesting talk with your mother,” Ned said to him as he drew near.

“I’m going to do the right thing,” Jon said in a flat voice without turning around. “I’m going to marry her.” He said it with all the enthusiasm you might expect from someone discussing a trip to the electric chair.

“You shouldn’t, you know. If you don’t actually love her and want to be married to her. That isn’t fair to either of you.”

Jon whirled around and looked at him then. “I’m not going to walk away from my responsibilities. I’m not like my father!”

“No, Jon. You are nothing like Rhaegar Targaryen,” Ned said softly. “You will care for your child. I know that. I’m talking about his or her mother. If you aren’t certain how you feel about her, then don’t marry her.”

“I love her, Uncle Ned. That’s not the problem.” He scowled then. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if we try it, and it just falls apart! I see it happen to people all the time. Marriage is . . .it’s hard. Too hard, maybe. But, I won’t let my kid be a bastard. He deserves better.”

“You deserved better, too, Jon. But your mother did the best she could for you. As for what you said about marriage, that’s your mother I hear talking.”

“Well,” Jon said. “She talks about it a lot. She doesn’t want to see me trapped. She doesn’t want me to put my own dreams aside for someone else’s.”

“Do I seem trapped to you? I don’t believe I’ve put aside any of my dreams, Jon. I’ve just had someone to share them with. Surely, you don’t believe your aunt and I are miserable.”

“You’re not normal. That’s what Mom says.”

Ned laughed. “Well, after today, I’ve decided I’m not entirely sure normal exists, but I’m not special, Jon. What I have with your aunt is special because she and I decided it should be. And contrary to your mother’s opinion on the subject, we are far from the only two people in the world who have found something greater with another person than either of us could have on our own.”

“So you think I’m right to marry Ygritte?”

Ned put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I think that’s for you to decide. But you should base that decision on what you and Ygritte feel and what you and Ygritte want. Not on your mother’s opinion of marriage. Nor solely on mine, to be fair. Marriage can be hard at times, Jon. It can also be wonderful. I’ve found that most things in life worth having are often both.” He patted Jon’s shoulder. “I’m always here if you want to talk more, but right now I should probably go back inside. Surely this party is winding down.”

Jon nodded. “Hey, Uncle Ned!” he called as Ned started to walk away. “Don’t say anything to Robb, okay? It’s not that I don’t want him to know. I just don’t want him stressed out about me on his honeymoon. He deserves better than that.”

Ned smiled. “I know Robb asked you to be best man, Jon,” he said. “And I know why you turned him down. It meant a lot to Bran to be beside his brother tonight, just as you knew it would. You’re a good man, Jon. You’ll be a good father.”

Ned then went back inside and left his nephew alone with his thoughts.

Catelyn looked relieved to see him, but he answered her unspoken questions with “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Finally, it came time to send Robb and Jeyne up to their rooms with much cheering and many hugs. Their other children apparently intended to continue celebrating until dawn, but Ned was more than happy to use the departure of the bridal couple as an excuse for his own escape, and Catelyn was perfectly willing to go along with that plan.

Back in their hotel room, he fell back against the door after closing it. “My god, what a day!”

She smiled. “It certainly was eventful,” she agreed. “But the wedding was beautiful, and Robb is so happy, Ned. That’s all that matters. And I was so proud of all our kids." She reached down to remove her high heels and sighed with relief as she wiggled her toes. "How is Jon, though? Did you get a chance to talk to him?”

“He’ll be all right, I think. He’s got a good heart and a good head on his shoulders. If he listens to them both, he’ll do the right thing.”

Catelyn turned her back to him. “Unzip me, will you? What about Lyanna?”

Ned sighed. “I can’t do much with my sister except let her do as she will. I think she’ll be okay. She just has to get over herself at times.”

“Well,” Catelyn said fairly. “She’s been through a lot. Here. Give me your jacket. No, don’t throw it on the floor. The tuxes have to be turned in tomorrow. I want to put it all in the bag now.” 

Obediently, he stripped off his tux and enjoyed the sight of her in nothing but bra and nylons standing at the closet putting all his formalwear into the garment bag. When she had finished, he pulled her to him and began systematically removing the pins from her hair to let it fall down around her shoulders freely. “You were beautiful tonight, Cat," he whispered, putting his hands on her shoulders and kissing the nape of her neck, enjoying the feel of her hair against his face. "The most beautiful woman in the place by far.”

She laughed. “Well, if you feel that way, I am content, my love, because I care for no other man’s opinion on that subject.”

“Not even Littlefinger’s?” he teased, as he moved his hands lower on her back, unclasping her bra.

“Oh god, Ned,” she groaned. “What am I going to do about Lysa? I can’t let her marry him!” 

“I fear you can do no more about your sister than I can about mine, Cat. We shall simply have to let all our siblings live their lives and love them anyway.”

“I suppose,” she said, leaning into him as he rubbed her back and continued kissing her neck and shoulders. “I love you, you know.”

“I do.” He turned her around to face him. “You know what I kept thinking all through today?”

“That we are both related to an alarming number of lunatics?”

“Well, yes. That thought did cross my mind. But mostly, I just kept looking at you and the kids. And I thought, I wouldn’t change it. I mean, there are things I would like to have done better through the years, and God knows there are hurts I would have protected you and our children from if I could. But I wouldn’t change our life, Cat. I wouldn’t change us. And if I did have the chance to go back and do something differently, even something I truly wanted--if it meant that you and I wouldn’t be here like this right now, I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t lose you--lose this--lose us. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said, winding her arms around his neck. “Because I feel the same way. I love you, Eddard Stark.”

“I love you, Catelyn Tully Stark.” He kissed her on the lips then, deeply and with ever increasing desire. When they broke apart, he whispered. “Now, didn’t you make some promise about allowing me to do to you whatever I wished?”

She smiled at him. “So start wishing, Ned. I believe in keeping my promises. Especially my promises to you."

He grinned and slipped one arm down under her hips, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. There he removed her nylons leaving her entirely naked as she lay there looking up at him expectantly. "I have a lot of wishes," he told her as he removed his boxers.

"Oh, really? Do you think this might take the rest of the night?" she teased him.

"No," he said seriously, looking at her beautiful face. "I'm afraid that won't be nearly long enough. I think keeping this promise just might take the rest of your life."

"Ooooh," she said. "I'm up to that challenge."

"Good," he said, positioning himself above her and then using his hands and mouth to make her give a high pitched cry. "Be careful now, Cat," he said, grey eyes alight with both desire and laughter. "Father Allen just might be outside the door."

The sound of his wife's laughter as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her then was the loveliest sound Ned Stark had ever heard, and the sound he knew he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.


End file.
